


Blaise/Draco Prompted Drabbles and Ficlets

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Prompted Harry Potter Works [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Prompted Blaise/Draco drabbles and ficlets from my blog.





	1. "Merlin, I'm so in love with you."

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is the prompt line for the drabble, and any additional detail is in the chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by markedplaces.

“Merlin, I’m so in love with you.”

Draco scowled up at him. “Can you be in love with me later? Maybe when I’m not being strangled by the curtains?”

Being strangled was an exaggeration, he knew, but the curtains, charmed to lengthen and ensnare the next person who walked past them, were tightly wrapped around him. His left leg was bent backwards at a rather uncomfortable angle, and bound to his waist. His right ankle was held higher than the rest of his body, and his arms were tightly bound to his sides.

Blaise only snickered at him. “It’s just...it’s so  _ you _ ,” he said.

The curtains tugged, dragging Draco closer to the windows, and making him whack his head on the corner of the couch as he went past it.

“Blaise!”

Blaise only laughed harder, following him, but still not helping.

“Trying to get one over on Potter, and getting your own prank turned around on you. It’s just like the golden years,” Blaise said, a wistful quality to his tone. “Just reminds me how much I love your stupid arse.”

“If you love me, how about you help me?” Draco hissed, struggling again, but unable to do anything more than flop around on the floor.

Blaise crouched down and cupped his chin, turning his head to face him properly.

“I told you setting a prank in the common room was a bad idea. You are so lucky that it got you when the room was empty. You know that right?”

Draco’s face was burning. The longer Blaise talked, the more chance someone else would come in. He’d been lucky it was Blaise who had entered the room seconds after he’d accidentally triggered it. 

If the Gryffindor’s saw this, he’d never live it down.

“I’m almost tempted to leave you,” Blaise continued, smirking down at him. “I keep telling you to cut it out with the pranking. You’re just not good at it like they are, you only end up embarrassing yourself when you try to match them.”

“Blaise, I swear to—” Draco was cut off as the curtains tugged him closer to the windows again, and he yelped.

“What happens when you reach the windows?” Blaise asked curiously, taking a few steps to be beside him again, and looking down at him with more amusement than was appropriate.

Draco wriggled, trying to get an arm free, but only managing to roll himself over onto his front. He made a defeated sound, muffled by the floor.

Blaise grabbed him by the shoulder, and turned him just enough so that his face wasn’t pressed into the floor.

“Well?” he asked, still smirking.

Draco settled for glaring at him. “It’ll hang me up by my feet. Or foot, as the case may be.”

That set Blaise off laughing again. Draco grit his teeth. Anyone could walk in, at any moment.

“Oh, Merlin, I do love you,” Blaise wheezed, finally drawing his wand to help. “I really do. You silly, silly twat.”


	2. "Let's run away together"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Anon.

“Let’s run away together!” Blaise exclaimed, making an angry gesture at nothing in particular. “You’re miserable here. You’re in danger here! They’re never going to treat you any differently!”

Draco whirled on him angrily. “So I should just give up? Just abandon my mother, abandon the estate?” Draco hissed. “I still have responsibilities to my family! I have to at least try to drag our name from the dirt, and rebuild the estate!”

Blaise made an angry sound, and turned, taking a few steps away, before turning and stepping closer again.

“The Malfoy name is dead, Draco! You can’t even show your face in Wizarding spaces without being hexed, and the Aurors are never going to help you!”

Draco looked away. That, he could never deny, nor could he defend his refusal to let it stop him.

“Let go of your damn pride!” Blaise snapped! “It’s only a matter of time until someone murders you! Come with me! We’ll find somewhere safe!”

A sinking sensation began in the pit of Draco’s stomach. This was it then. Blaise had put up with so much, but a refusal now would be the end of them.

“I’m still under parole, Blaise,” he said tiredly, knowing it would never be enough. “Six more years. You think we’ll be safe if the Aurors are hunting me?”

“You’ll be dead within six years.”

Draco shivered. Most likely. But still, what could he do? He’d done everything he could. He’d even gone grovelling to Potter the last time he’d been attacked in public. Even though he had appeared to be interested in helping, even Potter had been useless.

“Go, Blaise,” he said in defeat. “Get out while you can. I’m only going to drag you down with me.”

“No.” Blaise’s voice cracked. “Not this again!”

Draco swallowed hard. “Yes, this. You could have died getting in front of that hex the last time we went out. You’re lucky it was non-lethal. You want to leave? Then go. I can’t follow you, and you’re better off without me anyway.”

Turning, Draco faced away. He couldn’t watch the impact of those words. It was the right thing to do, but it hurt so much.

“I can’t leave you here alone!” Blaise hissed, his voice wobbling. “I love you!”

Draco winced. “And I love you enough to insist that you go. They hate you by association. You’re not safe either, but you’re not bound by parole.”

“I’m not leaving the country without you!”

“You will, eventually. But the longer you wait, the worse it will be for us both.” 

 

* * *

Draco staggered, falling to his knees as he landed. With a groan, he waited until the nausea subsided, before standing. Ever since he’d lost his arm to some lunatic with a vendetta two years ago, Portkeys and Apparition just didn’t feel right. International Portkey travel was even worse.

Looking around, he tugged at the buttons of his coat. The Ministry’s weather information was inaccurate, as always. Twelve degrees? It felt more like twenty, with the sun beating down on him.

Retrieving the small, hand drawn map from his inside coat pocket, he studied it for a moment. It was years old now. The edges were frayed, and some of the words had faded, but it showed the way clearly enough. It hardly mattered that the words were faded anyway, if he had to ask for directions, he would have probably butchered the pronunciation so badly he’d have ended up Merlin knows where. Which was only if he could find anyone to ask. The area was so remote, that was unlikely anyway.

It had been a nightmare getting an international Portkey to such a remote, countryside location, but he was still a public enemy in the Wizarding World. He didn’t want to risk finding out if it was the same in somewhere as remote, with such a small magical community, as New Zealand.  Better to avoid a settlement, and get a Portkey directly to the countryside. The Ministry was bound to secrecy, and as much as they may hate him, they wouldn’t risk a backlash for disclosing his Portkey location. Not after Granger had torn them to shreds when it had happened to her. Even for someone as hated as Draco, it wasn’t worth another privacy scandal.

Stowing the map again, Draco grabbed his one bag, and set off down the road, away from the crossroad sign. The location was idyllic, much like the English countryside. He didn’t recognise all the plants, or the sounds of the birds, but there was something achingly familiar about the rolling hills.

Not somewhere he’d ever expected Blaise to end up. Then again, he hadn’t expected Blaise to boldly claim he would wait for him, and risk sending the location either. 

Still, he didn’t expect anything. It had been years now. But regardless of how they’d parted, with angry words, and tears, he knew Blaise would still care enough to help him get settled somewhere, and show him how to survive outside the Wizarding World. They’d been friends long before lovers. They could be just friends again.

He might even be kind enough to avoid telling Draco he’d told him so. That he had been right about never restoring the family name, and nearly losing his life in his attempts. He’d nearly died the day he’d lost his arm. But at least it had been his left arm, and he didn’t have to see the mark any longer. That made it easier to bear, on the bad days.

His mother had fled the country the moment her parole was up, and had nearly come back when she had heard, but had wisely stayed away. She’d wanted Draco to go to her, but it was too risky. She had chosen an obscure Wizarding community that was a little more tolerant, but two Malfoys in one place would push their tolerance too far.

Making a mental note to get a message to her as soon as he was settled, Draco looked around again. He was coming up on Blaise’s property. He still couldn’t believe in Blaise the farmer. Even if he was raising some kind of fancy sheep, and making a name for his alias in designing clothes from its wool. 

In his one and only letter, he’d also mentioned something about buying into a vineyard somewhere else in the country, so Draco couldn’t understand why he chose to live on a sheep farm instead of a vineyard.

Then again, it had been five years. People changed a lot in five years. Draco himself had changed a lot, to finally let go of his price and leave the Wizarding World.

As he found the mailbox, and started walking up a long driveway, shaded by overhanging branches, he felt his nervousness grow.

He should have messaged ahead, but it was too risky. He had enough faith in the Ministry’s tighter regulations on Portkey travel to keep his location secret. Only two people in the department knew the final location of any given Portkey now, and disclosing was a fireable offence after the drama with Granger. But if he’d sent an owl, there was a much greater chance of it being intercepted. 

He was lucky that Blaise had managed to get his initial message through in secret.

“I don’t believe it!”

Draco was jerked from his thoughts, and realised he’d made it up the driveway to the house. Turning, he saw Blaise sitting outside the house, putting a teacup down, and getting up from a swinging chair.

“I’m hallucinating,” Blaise muttered, getting closer.

Draco swallowed, dropping his bag. He was different now, missing an arm, covered in scars and hex marks, too skinny. In contrast Blaise was practically glowing. He’d buffed up a bit, and gained a bit of weight. He was still wearing fashionable clothing, if loose, and a bit scuffed in places.

The hand he reached out and touched Draco’s face with was calloused. 

Without thinking, Draco caught it, and touched the callouses, where he had only ever felt skin as soft as silk before.

Blaise’s other hand touched where Draco’s coat sleeve was cropped near the stump of his arm.

“My parole ended,” Draco said stupidly. He’d planned out what he would say to Blaise a hundred times over, as the end of his parole had neared, and the possibility of surviving to see it increased. But having Blaise notice him first, and startle him out of his thoughts, had his mind lost, untethered. He couldn’t remember anything he’d been meaning to say.

“You’re alive,” Blaise whispered, almost like he didn’t believe it.

“And almost in one piece,” Draco said, wincing at his own awful joke. 

Blaise made a pained, sound. “You found me.”

Draco swallowed. “You gave me directions. I could use some help adjusting to the muggle world,” he said quietly. “And I missed you.”

Blaise met his eyes. “I meant it when I said I would wait,” he said, his tone accusatory. As if he knew Draco would assume the worst of him. “I was trying to build the courage to seek you out, now that your parole would be over. But I’m cut off from the Wizarding World now, and I was so afraid you’d be dead, I’ve been putting it off.”

Draco spread his one arm out to the side. “Here I am,” he joked. “It’s okay though. I don’t expect anything. I just need help finding my feet. I can move on to somewhere else if—”

Blaise cuffed the side of his head. “You idiot! Did they deafen you too?” he chided. “I said I would wait for you. Five years is not that long.”

Draco closed his eyes a moment. Five years alone had felt like a lifetime to him.

“Oh, Merlin,” Blaise muttered. “Don’t cry. If you cry, I’m going to cry. I’m tougher than that now. Don’t you dare!”

Too late. Draco swiped angrily at his eyes. “Piss off,” he muttered half-heartedly. “I got dirt in my eye. From your stupid farm. Why the fuck are you living on a farm? You have dirt on your trousers. Did you notice?”

Blaise laughed, and then both his arms were around Draco, and he held on tight while Draco shook with sobs. It poured out of him. Not just tears but words. He wasn’t even aware of what he was saying. But he felt overwhelmed, as if it finally hit him that he was free, and safe.

And on a bloody farm. No one would look for him on a farm.

When his sobbing and shaking finally subsided, Blaise stepped back, and sighed softly, his own cheeks wet.

“Come on inside. I’ll make you a cuppa. You’ll feel better.”

Draco looked around, as Blaise looped an arm around his waist, and tugged him along to the front door. Seeing green everywhere, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair and clothes, feeling Blaise right next to him, he was feeling better already.


	3. "Duck!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ylime94, shamelessly cheating by prompting me an idea I outlined in a random conversation. Shame on you Emily.

“Duck!” Blaise suddenly cried out.

Draco turned to look behind him, swaying slightly on his feet. Drinking that potion had been a bad idea, it had clearly degraded too far for consumption.

“There are no—”

Draco was cut off as Blaise suddenly tackled him, knocking him roughly to the floor, screaming while he did so.

“Dragon! It’s a bloody dragon!”

Draco pushed off the floor, knocking Blaise off him with an annoyed sound. 

“What the bloody hell are you—” Blaise’s hair was now bright green, and half of his face appeared to be melting. “What the fuck is happening to your face?”

His stomach lurched from the sight, but he leaned closer, reaching out, but not daring to touch. What had they done? What was the potion doing to him? They needed Pomfrey.

“Fuck my face!” Blaise yelped, grabbing his outstretched hand, and dragging him over, until he was shoving him under Draco and Theo’s shared desk, and squeezing in with him. “Worry about the fucking dragon!”

Draco peered out into the empty dorm room, then looked back at Blaise. His eyes, or the one not sliding down his cheek, at least, was darting around, and wide with fear.

Stomach churning, Draco reached out, and touched Blaise’s melting cheek. It felt completely normal.

“We’re hallucinating,” he said weakly, as Blaise’s bright green hair started sprouting flowers. He could almost smell them. 

“We… no…” Blaise looked back out of the cramped space, and squinted. “It… it looks so real.”

“How the fuck would a bloody dragon fit in here?” Draco huffed, trying to tear his eyes away from Blaise’s hair, and the way there were now flowers sprouting out from the melted mess of the left side of his face. 

Blaise frowned, and looked like he was going to try and argue, before closing his eyes and appearing to shake himself. Upon opening them, he seemed to flinch.

“There’s still a dragon flying around.”

“And your face is melting off, and somehow growing flowers at the same time,” Draco offered. “And your hair is bright green.”

Blaise touched his face in a panic, and then turned a horrified look towards him. “Have you lost your mind?”

Draco gestured out at the still empty dorm. “No more than you and your bloody dragon!”

“Are we going to die? From drinking bad dreamless sleep?” Blaise asked, his good eye tracking this supposed dragon around the room. “Hallucinations and then death?”

“It hardly matters. Snape will kill us if he finds out we drank the stuff when it was clearly—”

“Look out!” Blaise suddenly cried out, before somehow managing to cover Draco with his body within the cramped space. Draco could only thank Merlin their dorm had double desks with more space under them. If they were even under the desk. Fuck. They could be sitting in the middle of the room, and probably not even know it.

“It’s not real, you idiot! We’re hallucinating. None of this is real.”

“It was going to roast us alive!”

Draco opened his mouth to scoff, and then snapped it shut again. Blaise was still somehow draped over him in the close space, and the significance of that suddenly registered with him.

“A dragon was about to breathe fire on us… so you threw yourself in front of me?” he asked, trying to ignore the flowers that were starting to shed petals all around them. They weren’t real. He was hallucinating. Blaise’s face was fine. It wasn’t half melted and sprouting flowers. Hallucinating. He was hallucinating. Just like Blaise and his stupid dragon.

Blaise leaned back, frowning. “Couldn’t let you burn alive.”

Draco stared back at him, managing to ignore the melted face and stupid flowers.

“You sentimental idiot,” he muttered. “You’re not saying you’d burn alive for me!”

It was hard to tell what expression Blaise was making through the half-melted part of his face, but the strange hand gesture he made was making it clear he hadn’t considered his own words.

“We’re high on expired potion. Whatever. Dragon, fire, whatever. None of it matters.”

Draco laughed, and poked at his chest.

“Oh no! No backtracking!” he said with glee. “You just said you’d die for me! Painfully! You can’t take that back.”

“Sod off!” Blaise grumbled, peering out from under the desk again. 

“Still see a dragon?” Draco asked.

“It seems to have made a nest on your bed. If we move, it will probably attack again.”

Draco rolled his eyes, and fought the urge to brush away the petals that were falling on him from Blaise’s stupid hair and stupid melted face.

“It’s not real.”

None of this could be real. Was Blaise even here with him? Merlin. He was never touching dreamless sleep again. He’d rather face the nightmares. What if he wasn’t even in the dorm anymore? What if he’d gone wandering? What if he was talking to someone else and only thinking it was Blaise? 

Merlin, what would the Carrows do if they caught him hallucinating in the halls?

How could they have been so stupid and desperate to drink expired dreamless sleep?

“None of this is real,” he muttered, leaning back in the tight space, and resigning himself. Blaise seemed much more convinced that what he was seeing was real, and he doubted that he’d let them leave the cramped space while he was still seeing that dragon.

Blaise turned to look at him, and the melted half of his face was now hidden by bright, colourful flowers. He almost looked beautiful, like he was peering out from behind a bouquet.

“None of it?”

Draco shrugged. “Can’t be certain what is and isn’t a hallucination. I might not even be here. You might be talking to a random wall. I might be talking to some stupid Hufflepuff. I might think I can tell what is hallucination and what isn’t, all while still being trapped in a greater hallucination. Who knows.”

Blaise stared at him, and Draco felt a sudden urge to start plucking the flowers from his face to see what it looked like underneath. But they weren’t real. He was hallucinating.

“So, we’re… when this is over, how will we know what really happened, and what was just a hallucination?” Blaise asked slowly.

Draco shrugged again. “Who knows? If it sounds silly and unlikely, then it probably didn’t happen.”

Blaise was silent for a bit, and then he was leaning forward, and Draco had barely anytime to deal with how jarring it was not to feel petals against his skin, because Blaise was kissing him.

Blaise was kissing him. Under a desk. Because they were hiding from a dragon, while flowers grew out of Blaise’s face.

They were on some awful expired potion trip, and they were kissing.

“This isn’t real,” Draco whispered, when their lips parted for a few seconds.

“Realer than what’s going on out there,” Blaise muttered, and then they were kissing again.

Draco didn’t know if he meant the dragon sleeping on his bed, or the nightmare that was their seventh year. It hardly mattered. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see the flowers, and Blaise’s hands were cupping his jaw, and sliding into his hair, and his mouth was warm and soft. It did feel real, and it felt good. The only thing in a long time to feel good.

Maybe it was all a hallucination, and he’d wake up alone, curled up in a corner, coming down from the potion.

It was better than anything else going on.

But Merlin, he hoped he wasn’t really snogging some stupid Hufflepuff. 


End file.
